He stands and saunters over to the breakfast bar, an amused smile lighting his face. I find it nearly impossible to maintain eye contact.
“Just wanted to make sure you were good before I head out.”
“I’m good.” I amnotgood. I am the opposite of good. “Thanks for... all this.” I sweep my arm through the air, gesturing to the food, but hoping he knows I mean everything involved in the last twelve hours.
Ben sets his mug on the counter and shoves his hands in his pockets, not acknowledging my thanks. “What’s with all the food in your freezer?”
Huh?Holy left field. “What are you talking about? It’s a freezer.”
He smiles patiently. “It looks like you’re hoarding meals for the apocalypse.”
I laugh, relaxing some, then cross from the kitchen into the living room so I’m standing next to him. “Those are just my leftovers. I intentionally make extra food at dinner so I don’t have to buy lunch every day.”
“Don’t you find it annoying to cook for one person?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s why I triple the recipe, so the effort pays off over multiple days.”
“Huh.” He scratches his chin. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
“I like cooking.” The next words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Would you want to come over for dinner sometime?”
We both simultaneously widen our eyes.What am I doing?Remorse must be written all over my face because the smile he gives me is guarded.
“I’ll allow you to take it back.”
I let out a stilted laugh, immediately feeling ridiculous. It’s only dinner. What’s the worst that can happen?
“No, it’s fine. It’s the least I can do to thank you for... your help.” I can’t even indirectly reference the events of last night. Just thinking about it makes me want to hurl myself out the window. “Plus, it’d be nice to cook for someone else for a change. Though knowing your appetite, it would probably be more like cooking for four,” I tease.
“You’re not wrong.” He looks... pleased. “All right, then, I accept. I have a policy of never turning down food.”
I grin. “I do know that about you.”
There’s an awkward silence as we appraise each other uncertainly.
“I changed a couple of your lightbulbs,” he blurts out, apropos of nothing.
“You changed mylightbulbs?”
“They were out. I thought I’d make myself useful,” he says sheepishly.
“I can’t reach them. I’ve been meaning to call the super.”
“I figured.” He points to himself and shrugs. “Tall guy.Superhandy.”
I can’t help my laughter. Whoisthis person? Thoughtful and considerate are absolutely not what I was expecting.
“Thanks. That was sweet of you.” I reach out and brush his elbow in thanks.
He smiles, wide and unguarded this time, his eyes bright and bottomless. Seriously, how is this a real color? Against the green of his shirt, they’re practically electric.
I jolt like I’ve been shocked by a doctor’s paddles. Memories flood my brain and I’m left reeling. I remember my hand moving up his arm... down his chest... into his waistband...
My hand flies to my mouth.Oh my God.Humiliation rolls off me in toxic clouds. It’s the atomic bomb of embarrassment. I am the Fat Man and the Little Boy.
“Ah, I can see you’re remembering some things from last night.” His mouth holds an amused smirk.
“I—I’m so sorry... I don’t know what to say...”
